


Inspiration

by Someone_aka_Me



Series: in a world that could've left us hard as metal [18]
Category: 21st Century CE RPF
Genre: F/F, and probably makes sense to no one who doesn't know me, it's a long story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-22
Updated: 2014-08-22
Packaged: 2018-02-14 07:29:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2183136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Someone_aka_Me/pseuds/Someone_aka_Me
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not all muses are so lucky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inspiration

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MissingMommy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissingMommy/gifts).



> Clara is the muse of my beautiful Sam. Harry is my own. This is them.

18\. _ClarenceGertrude (or HarryClara, of a sort)_

The thing about being a human’s muse is it’s a very… metaphysical job. It involves a great deal of floating around in that weird intangible mind space that no one can see, but everyone can access — though only their only little slice. But, often, the humans have little use for their muses, and they wind up floating around in the ether for a while.

Clara H. Muse knows that, all things considered, she is lucky. She has a human. Her human makes good use of her talents, and for all she bribes/threatens/tortures Clara, she will usually submit to work under Clara’s schedule.

This suits Clara just fine, honestly, because Clara… is not your ordinary muse. 

When Clara was only a young muse, still only a budding idea, her current human only a young girl, Clara was assigned to a different human. Not a nice, friendly, beautiful girl like she has now. A cruel, cruel man. This man would use Clara’s talents to plot wicked, wicked things, and when Clara refused to cooperate, when Clara fed him lies, told him plans that she knew would not succeed, he got angry. Very, very angry.

It takes a rare human to touch the world of muses. This man, Clara’s first assignment, was one of those humans. One day, he became so furious with her that he broke into her world, her safe haven, and he ripped her inspiration from her.

Now, you have to understand: Inspiration is the lifeblood of a muse. It is impossible to survive without it; Clara is certain, to this day, that he intended her to die.

For some time, she thought she _would_ die, a slow and painful death. She writhed in agony for what felt like hours and hours. The light began to fade, and she welcomed it, welcomed the end. Anything was better than this pain. Anything was better than helping a man to murder others.

But just as Clara faded into unconsciousness, she felt a presence, a warmth curl around her. She never expected to wake up.

But then… then she did. 

She woke up in a small corner of their world, shields up around her to keep everyone else out. She felt around her for the thread of inspiration, expecting a gaping hole, trying to figure out how she was still existing after that sort of pain, that sort of trauma. 

But the gaping hole didn’t exist. Instead, the soft but steady pulse of an inspiration not her own was discernible. It was patched right into the place her own should have been, but Clara immediately knew it to be foreign. 

She cast her senses outward and immediately found another presence in the space, familiar but foreign, and tinged with the same pulse as the inspiration in her being. 

_Are you with us?_

_You saved my life_ , Clara replied, which was both an answer and not, at the same time. 

_I… couldn’t let you die._ And it is clear that the muse was not accustomed to being vulnerable; she felt uncomfortable with the statement but she forced herself to utter it. 

After a moment, Clara realized that she could sense this because they are… linked. The shared inspiration acts as some sort of conduit between them. She cast her thoughts out, trying to recall any precedent, but she could not think of anything.

The other muse seemed to sense her confusion, because she starts again. _I didn’t know it would work, exactly. I just… went with instinct._

And Clara, unable to restrain herself, threw herself at the other muse, curling around her, warmth buzzing happily along the link. _I’m Clara._

She felt warmth in return. _Harry… short for Gertrude, but I’d really appreciate if you kept that to yourself, all right, love?_

Years later, and Clara understands now that that deep warmth she felt was a sense of affection. And that affection grew and grew until… well, the human concept is “soul mates”. Harry is her everything. Harry is the only way she can tap into inspiration when it runs dry. When she is stuck in a rut, Harry helps her to come up with new things to feed her human. When she is _angstangstangst_ , Harry helps her to find the fluffy side to balance. 

Harry helped her get her current assignment, too. Helped her find her way to Sam, the human girl, the human twenty-one-year-old who lives in Florida and dreams of Hogwarts, of Arthurian Legend, of a man and his phone booth, of a consulting detective and his other half, of Hunters and angels and a man who never seems to die. Sam wants to write to feel closer to her mom. Sam uses Clara as an expression of emotion, a method of creation, and it is eons better than being used for cruelty. 

And then, by some miracle, Clara’s Sam and Harry’s Laura find each other from across the country. Clara wonders how this is possible, wonders how their humans are so lucky, how their humans seem to understand so much.

Harry can’t explain it, but… no muses have ever shared inspiration before, not in the way that they do. When other muses meet, they can join, twining their respective inspiration threads around each other, making them inseparable, but never before have two muses ever shared one pulse. It is possible, Harry says, that their unique degree of joinedness, combined with the fact that both of their humans are of the sort deeply in touch with their inner muse, has drawn the two humans together. 

Or, says Harry, maybe the human girls are just soul mates too. 


End file.
